The Man at the Crossroad

There is a kind of love that never knocks. It travels through the night, tears up its return ticket, and stands outside a door it will never open, not because it is weak, but because it loves too much to disturb. This collection of thirty four ghazals lives in that silence. In the space between reaching out and pulling back. Between knowing and still going. Some people never leave the crossroads. They just learn to live there.